Forsworn
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "It's easy, when he has the familiar warmth of Pairo's hand in his and the steps of the other boy following close behind him with the simple trust that makes their movement as fast together as Kurapika could move alone." Kurapika and Pairo make promises to each other, and Kurapika tries to keep them.


Kurapika always takes the lead through the forest.

It's more a necessity than otherwise. Pairo can pick his way through the more familiar surroundings of the main village, and if they're going slowly he can shuffle through the tangle of branches and debris that make up the forest floor around them without needing Kurapika's guidance; but any extra time they spend making the trip out to meet Sheila is time lost from the pursuit both Kurapika and Pairo are most interested in, and Kurapika doesn't mind leading the way. It's easy enough, when he has the familiar warmth of Pairo's hand in his and the steps of the other boy following close behind him with the simple trust that makes their movement as fast together as Kurapika could move alone, and they make their way through the forest with speed enough to satisfy even Kurapika's perpetual impatience.

"I'm going to try reading a whole chapter by myself today," he informs Pairo, looking back over his shoulder to grin excitement in response to the soft of Pairo's habitual smile. "I've been practicing the letters all week."

"Be careful," Pairo tells him, but he's burbling a laugh so bright it entirely undoes any sincere concern there might have been on his words. "What will you tell the village elder if he catches you studying again?"

Kurapika tosses his head. "I don't care," he says, letting his voice swing into the lofty heights of self-confidence that are always so easy to find when he has Pairo's hand in his and the new weight of knowledge in his head. "He won't teach me himself but he can't stop me learning. If he does I'll just run away."

"You'll leave the village?" Pairo asks. His head is tipped to the side when Kurapika looks back to him, his eyes wide with the same half-shocked excitement he always has for this idea. "You can't go to the outside world on your own."

"Of course I won't," Kurapika tells Pairo, continuing to stride forward through the trees around them without looking away from the amusement curving at Pairo's mouth. "I'd take you with me, of course. I can't leave the village and leave my partner behind, after all!"

That makes Pairo's smile pull wider, the way Kurapika hoped it would. "What about Sheila?"

"We'd stay with her until she's better," Kurapika says without any hesitation, the vague shape of the offhand idea forming itself as quickly as he gives it voice. "We can't leave her to herself when she can't walk yet. And then we'll go and find you a doctor."

"And become Hunters together," Pairo finishes, and Kurapika grins brightly enough he's sure even the haze of Pairo's weak vision can see it clearly.

"That's right," he says. "We'll all become Hunters together!"

"Who're Hunters?"

It's another voice, a woman's, coming from the shadows of the cave Kurapika and Pairo have been visiting for weeks. Kurapika glances forward, feeling his heart skip on excitement at the happiness to come; and then back to Pairo trailing behind him.

"Sheila's here," he says, and then, leaning in conspiratorially: "Let's run the last little way."

Pairo laughs with easy agreement. "Okay!" And he moves forward, pushing into the stumbling run that's the fastest he can achieve with his injured legs the way they are now. Kurapika could outpace him easily, if he wanted to stretch his own legs to their full length to cover the last distance to the cave where Sheila is waiting; but the thought doesn't even cross his mind any more than he considers letting go of the fit of Pairo's hand in his.

They cross the entrance to the cave in perfect step with each other, Pairo smiling as wide as Kurapika and their hands tightly clasped between them. Sheila is looking up from where she's reclined at the back of the cave, her healing leg propped up in front of her and a notebook in her hand covered with handwritten characters of the language Kurapika and Pairo have been so thoroughly studying over the last few weeks since she arrived in their lives. The text is pressed close together, the letters cramped in on themselves like Sheila's trying to make the most of limited space; Kurapika wonders if she needs another notebook, if she's running out of space in the one she had with her when she had her accident.

"Hello!" she says, lifting a hand in a wave as she sets her pen down and closes the notebook to set it aside. "I thought that was you. How are you?"

"We're good," Pairo says for the both of them while Kurapika is taking stock of Sheila's current situation. She has all her possessions clustered close in reach alongside her; there's the book they've been reading through, and the notebook she's just setting down, and a change of clothes folded just behind where she's leaning back against the makeshift bed they've made of green branches and soft leaves. There's still some of the food they brought on their last trip too, but the dish that was full of water on their last visit is nearly empty, Kurapika can only see a half-inch of liquid at the very bottom.

"You need more water," he says, and steps forward to lead Pairo closer so he can kneel and reach for the dish. "I'll go refill it for you."

"Ah, thank you," Sheila says, offering the same soft smile she had for them the first day they met her. "I appreciate it."

"It's no problem," Kurapika says, and eases his hand free of Pairo's so he can touch against the other's shoulder instead, urging him to stay where he is while Kurapika gets to his feet. "Don't start without me, okay?"

"Okay," Pairo says, looking up to smile at Kurapika standing over him, and "Sure thing," Sheila agrees. Kurapika turns towards the door of the cave with the dish in hand, hurrying so he can navigate the path to the nearby river quickly enough to make sure they don't waste any of their valuable time. He rinses the dish in the clear water of the river, rubbing against the edges of it and over the base to wash away any trace of dust that might be lingering since their last visit; and then he fills it nearly to the brim and carries it back, carefully balancing the weight of it between both hands to keep from spilling over his shoes.

Pairo is sitting next to Sheila when Kurapika comes back in, the two of them turned to fit shoulder-to-shoulder over the book open in the space between them. Sheila is touching a finger to the page before her, murmuring over the words while Pairo follows the movement of her gesture; Kurapika fixes a scowl on his face before either of them look up, offering all the intensity of put-upon anger he can muster as Pairo reacts to the sound of his footsteps coming through the door.

"You said you weren't going to start without me," Kurapika protests, coming forward with as much frustrated weight to his steps as he can manage without slopping the water in the dish right over the edge and onto the ground beneath them. "That's not fair, I was only gone a few minutes."

"We weren't starting," Pairo tells him. "Sheila's showing me the pages we read from the book last week."

"Don't be angry, Kurapika," Sheila begs.

Pairo's laugh comes bright enough to echo off the walls of the space around them. "Oh, he's not really angry," he tells her. "His eyes aren't glowing yet, that's how you can tell."

"You can't just give me away like that," Kurapika pouts as he sets the dish down and comes over to drop unceremoniously to the ground alongside Pairo. "Is that any way to treat your partner?"

"Yup," Pairo smiles. "I mean, I just did, right?"

Kurapika sighs hugely. "Fine," he says. "So you weren't reading ahead, huh?"

"Nope!" Pairo reaches for the book braced between himself and Sheila, lifting the weight of it in both hands towards Kurapika instead. Kurapika shifts his legs, sliding in closer to lean against Pairo so they can both tip in and read the foreign words printed across the page without straining for space. The book fits perfectly into the gap between their knees, until Kurapika barely even has to brace at the far edge to hold the pages steady. "See?"

He's not wrong. Kurapika still has to struggle through the words in front of him before he can read them, has to sound through each separate letter in his head before he can make sense of a word; but the text is familiar as he makes his way through the top line, he remembers working through this same sentence the last time they were here.

"Fine," he allows, frowning with less good grace than he probably ought to muster for the situation. "So you don't need me to read this to you, is that what you're saying?"

"That's right!" Pairo says, smiling the wide, spreading smile that extends over his whole face. "I can read it to you!"

"He was reading it just a minute ago," Sheila puts in from alongside them. "He must have been practicing on his own, I was impressed."

"Okay," Kurapika allows, and he leans back from the intent focus he's giving to the page in front of him, enough that he can push at the edge of the book and make an offering of it over the space between himself and Pairo pressed close against his arm. "Read to me, then."

"Sure," Pairo says without so much as hesitating, and he's pulling the book in towards himself, settling the weight of it over his crossed legs and leaning in close to the page. He tips in so far his hair falls forward to shadow the book itself, catching and holding back the minimal light illuminating the shadows around them; Kurapika frowns and reaches out to urge Pairo back, to let more sunlight fall across the dark text of the book, but before his fingers touch Pairo begins to speak, his voice falling into a clear, deliberate rhythm as he traces a finger over the letters across the page.

"To become a member of the Hunter Association, all applicants have to pass…"

He's a good reader. Kurapika hadn't expected that; the letters spreading out over the paper in front of them are still unfamiliar enough that he himself stumbles over them, often breaking his sentences mid-word while he fumbles over one. But Pairo has learned them perfectly, from how fluidly his voice is ringing over the reading in front of him, and Kurapika lets his hand fall as he stares at the curve of his friend's shoulders over the book on his lap. It's for his eyes, Kurapika realizes as Pairo continues, the close press of his face over the page is so his struggling eyes can make out the details of the dark letters against the pale sheets; and Kurapika feels a twinge of guilt run through him, the ache of it so familiar he almost doesn't notice it. It's always there, anyway, the weight of Pairo's injured legs and weak eyes one he carries with him in exchange for the life the other boy saved at the cost of his own health; it seems a fair burden to bear, at least until Kurapika makes it to the outside world to find the doctor who can heal both Pairo's body and his own soul so they can be together without any need for consideration of either.

"...and are deemed Hunters by rule of the Association." Pairo lifts his head from over the book, his whole body unfolding to straighten as he turns to Kurapika to beam glowing pride at the other. "How did I do, Kurapika? I told you I could read it, couldn't I?"

"You did," Kurapika agrees, confirmation coming easy on the force of truth at his lips. "You can read it better than I can, I think."

Pairo reaches out to push against Kurapika's arm. "Don't be silly, of course I can't!"

Kurapika nods with growing certainty. "You can, I couldn't read that page so quickly. You're really good at this, Pairo!"

"You pick up languages fast," Sheila tells him. "That'll be helpful if you decide you want to become pro Hunters after all."

"There's no deciding," Kurapika says with absolute certainty. "We _know_ we're going to become Hunters. Right, Pairo?"

Pairo's laugh is as burbling bright as the water splashing against the river on the other side of the cave entrance. "That's right!"

"We're going to become pro Hunters together," Kurapika says with determination. "And then we'll travel the world together, having adventures and meeting people like you!"

"And then we'll come back," Pairo says, filling in the piece of the dream they've worked out between themselves in so many conversations Kurapika can almost recite the other's responses before they come. "We'll come back to the village, and we'll show our families that the outside world isn't so bad, that there are good, nice people in it!"

"People like you," Kurapika puts in, directing the words to Sheila where she's lounging in the corner.

Usually this is the point where Sheila is smiling, where the shape of her face has gone soft with the flattery they're giving her. But she's watching them now with focus in her eyes instead of appreciation, her mouth curving down at the corners into intent consideration as if she's trying to solve a problem laid out before her. It makes the easy curve of Kurapika's smile flicker, makes his simple cheer start to fade, and before he can ask her what's wrong Sheila tips her head and gives voice to an answer all on her own.

"You're going to become Hunters together?" she asks, her tone more confusion than anything else.

"That's right!" Pairo says. He hasn't looked up to see the expression on Sheila's face yet, or maybe he can't make out the crease of thought at her forehead; or maybe it's just his regular cheer making his tone so bright even in the face of the concern displayed so clearly across Sheila's features. "We'll take this exam together, and we'll pass together and become Hunters!"

"But your legs," Sheila says, and Kurapika can feel his shoulders tense in reflexive response, can feel the burn of heat start behind his eyes even though he knows Sheila, even though she's asking out of concern for them rather than anything else. "You can't walk or see well, can you? You can't take the Hunter Exam like that, it's too dangerous."

"It's fine," Kurapika says, cutting in fast before Pairo has to come up with an answer to the question. He reaches out without thinking to press his hand to the other's shoulder; Pairo turns his head to look up at Kurapika, the dark of his eyes going wide as he blinks up at the other, but Kurapika doesn't let his hold go and he doesn't look away from the intent focus he's giving Sheila. "I'll make sure it happens."

"How?" Sheila doesn't sound skeptical; she sounds curious, intrigued, like she's sincerely invested in Kurapika's answer rather than giving a rhetorical question she doesn't expect a reply to. "You have to be able to see to pass the exam, or to be able to work around it somehow at least."

"He will be able to." Kurapika's fingers tighten against Pairo's shoulder, his grip bracing against the other like he's trying to maintain his hold on his friend, like he's keeping Pairo next to him through the same force of will he can feel glowing bright behind his eyes. "I'll find Pairo a doctor who will heal him. There's all kinds of incredible people who take the Hunter Exam, right?"

Sheila ducks her head in a nod. "All kinds, yeah."

"That's fine then." Kurapika can feel his words coming with absolute certainty, can feel the weight of them pressing in against his chest like he's tying himself to the future, making a promise layered with enough determination to overcome even the weight of the guilt he bears on his shoulders without any thought of complaint. "I'll find a Hunter who wants to be a doctor. If they're amazing enough to pass the exam they'll be able to heal Pairo's legs and eyes."

"Kurapika," Pairo says from alongside him, his voice gentle on the other's name. Kurapika blinks, his attention dropping from Sheila to Pairo next to him; the other is smiling up at him, his whole face soft and bright with affection. He reaches up for Kurapika's hand at his shoulder, his fingers catching to tangle with the other's; when he tugs Kurapika's hold slides free, his grip easing as Pairo urges his hold loose and down so he can interlace their fingers in the space between them.

"Don't worry," he soothes. "I believe in you. You'll become a great Hunter and then you'll come back and meet me so I can go out adventuring with you."

"That's right," Kurapika says, repeating agreement and feeling the way it eases the ache behind his eyes, the way his chest unclenches a little from the knot of tension that was rushing his breathing so fast in his chest. He tightens his hold on Pairo's hand to replace it, bracing his fingers against the other's and pressing his thumb in close against Pairo's like he's not planning to ever let go. "I'll search until I find someone who can help you."

"That's a lot of work," Sheila comments. "You're really going to do a lot for each other, aren't you?"

"Of course," Kurapika says firmly. "We're partners, after all. There's no point to becoming a great Hunter if I don't have Pairo with me!"

"And there's no point to getting better if I'm not with Kurapika," Pairo puts in. He reaches for the edge of the book with his free hand to urge it back over the shared space between the two of them, so it's balanced between their legs. "We're going to be together always."

"Yes," Kurapika agrees. His eyes are starting to burn again; there's a dull hurt behind them, as if the heat that usually is so quick to fade with Pairo's comfort is still clinging to him, as if his eyes are glowing even without the intensity of emotion to surge their color bright and blinding. He lifts a hand to rub against one, trying to ease the pressure with the relief of friction in case it's some unnoticed itch bearing down against him. "Always."

"Kurapika?" Pairo asks. "What's wrong?"

"My eyes," Kurapika says. They're burning more, now; the ache is spreading out into his head, he can feel it throbbing at his temples and straining in his chest. "They won't stop glowing."

"Of course they won't," Pairo says, his voice so soothing Kurapika can feel the comfort like it's settling down into him to undo the knot in his chest. "You're still upset."

"What?" Kurapika says, blinking hard to try to clear the haze from his vision. "I'm not upset."

"You are," Pairo says, and "You are," Sheila echoes. Kurapika lifts his head, frowning as he opens his mouth to protest; but then he sees Pairo's eyes, sees the scarlet glow radiating out from them to fill all the space around them, and whatever words he was going to offer cut off into a startled yelp instead.

"Pairo," Kurapika says, and he's reaching out to touch at the other's face now instead of his own, to catch the comfort of physical touch against the warmth of Pairo's skin. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Pairo tells him. His voice sounds strange, echoey, like it's fading to some distant point; Kurapika can't explain why his chest is tightening on panic, can't understand why his impulse is to clutch and hold as tight to the other as he can, as if Pairo is going to dissolve away from him even as they sit here. "I'm not the one who's upset."

"I'm _not upset_ ," Kurapika insists, but his eyes are burning and his voice is cracking and he can feel the words melt to a lie on his tongue even as he grabs at a handful of Pairo's shirt as if to hold him here, as if to stave off the force of some unbearable loss he can feel sweeping in on him like a shadow from the cave mouth.

"You are," Pairo says again, and his smile is sad, and his eyes are brilliant, and Kurapika can't catch his breath and he can't look away, he can't turn to look over his shoulder at whatever shadow is sweeping down on him, at whatever malevolent force is sapping the bright of the sunlight to leave the glow of Pairo's eyes and his own the only illumination for the dark of the room. "You're upset, Kurapika, you've been upset for a long time."

"What about you?" Kurapika gasps, feeling like he's drowning, like he can't catch his breath even with Pairo clutched tight in his arms to hold him to reality. It's like the shadows in the room are gaining force, are going heavier and thicker to turn to water, to turn to an ocean's worth of night-black liquid to spill into Kurapika's lungs and drown him where he sits. "Your eyes are glowing, Pairo, something's wrong, what are you angry about?"

"I'm not angry," Pairo says, and he doesn't sound angry, doesn't even sound sad; he sounds resigned, heavy, like the words are the notes of a bell tolling in some distant building. "I'm dead."

Kurapika blinks against Pairo's shoulder, his forehead creasing on confusion as his heart skids on panicked adrenaline, as his whole body goes tense with rejection of this patent untruth. "What?" he says, and he's lifting his head, he's looking up to fix Pairo with his frown. "Why would you say that, Pairo, you're not-" but he can't see Pairo anymore, the light in the room has dimmed, it's only the glow from his own eyes because Pairo's are gone, Pairo's expression is slack and his eyes are gaps of shadow and when Kurapika sucks in a breath of horror his lungs fill with air gone heavy as water, his chest spasms with too much weight, with the burden of darkness filling his body to pull him down, down, down…

Kurapika jerks awake with a gasp.

He hadn't intended to fall asleep. His current situation - sitting upright in a chair surrounded by the eerie red glow emanating from the shelves around him - is hardly comfortable enough to merit the surrender to unconsciousness, he had been sure the position would have been enough to keep him alert. But he can't remember when he last slept, can't recall when he last laid down, and he doesn't feel tired but his body is apparently exhausted enough to drag him forcibly into memories-turned-dreams of a past so far behind him he can hardly remember what it was like to be so happy, to be so carefree, to have so many possibilities for his life still laid out in front of him. His heart is racing in his chest, his breathing gasping with the shock of adrenaline that hit him as the framework of his dream collapsed into the shadows of a nightmare; but that's familiar, at least, that's more of a comfort to his waking self than the raw-open wounds in his psyche left by more pleasant memories. Kurapika takes a breath and lets it out carefully, slowly, before he takes another; it's only once he's forced his inhales to a calmer rhythm that he lets himself lift his head, and lets his aching eyes come into focus on the source of the hazy illumination all around him.

It's a beautiful color, he supposes. Objectively the scarlet is striking, is probably quite dramatic to someone other than him, someone without such a clear association for the shade. But the disembodied eyes that are the source of the color are morbid enough to put off all but the most morbid or least humane of aesthetic appreciation, Kurapika is sure. For him it's like a memory in his head, like the screams of his murdered clansmen echoing with such vividness that they take on a visual presence, something he can see as clearly as he can feel the ache of his loss pressing down with agonizing clarity at his chest.

There's a hum from his lap. When Kurapika looks down his phone is ringing between the curve of his open palms, buzzing with the promise of an incoming call. He knows who it is calling him, who it always is who is calling him; but there's no space in him to answer, no voice he might give to normalcy with his blood burning hot with the need for vengeance. He switches the phone to silent, and slides it into the shadow of his pocket. He became a Hunter, just like he told Pairo he would; but he found his doctor too late, and it's not healing he's looking for now.

When he folds his empty hands in front of him and raises his gaze again, his eyes are as red as those that surround him.


End file.
